As well as bats in the belfry, I have had a bat in the house.
Writing this on Friday after a ridiculous night. I had a bath and headed up to bed only to be swooped upon by said bat.
I freaked and ran from the top of the landing and shut myself in my dark room, naked of course, only to find the bat had got there before me and continued swooping.
More freaking and I made bolt downstairs again, shutting the door upstairs. I then decided that the most useful thing to do was sob...couldn’t even leave the house as all clothes were upstairs. A real ‘had enough’ moment. Contemplated staying on the settee.
Eventually I put my overcoat on and headed back up.
After much flurrying I managed to contain it in the spare room which had an open window, shut the door and then, admittedly absurdly, sealed it up with tape (old cottage latch door with big gaps!). I retreated to my bedroom and was then mocked by a blue bottle and a moth.
This morning, after looking up bat advice...I headed back in, prepared for capture but I think it’s found it’s own way or else is lurking and I’m not looking too hard.
I’ve got what I need from the airing cupboard and am now contemplating my next battle with myself. Ive been contemplating it and have taken a bit of time off. Not sure I’ll make it, or even get to the end of the road, but will see how it goes.
‘Ever tried, ever failed, try again, fail again, fail better.’
It’s all such tediously hard work.
There is a robber....that robber is called shit mood, depression, grief, anxiety...call it what you like.
Anyway, here goes...